


wooden floors, walls, and window sills

by cinnamontoastcronch



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is a Little Shit, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamontoastcronch/pseuds/cinnamontoastcronch
Summary: ENDGAME AUPeter visits the lakehouse.





	wooden floors, walls, and window sills

“What's up, kid?” Tony asks, setting down his bags. The smell of McDonalds wafts into the room.

“Mid life crisis.” Peter answers in complete monotone, lying deadly still on couch.

“Mmm, nope. You're eighteen,” Tony says, shoving more burger into his mouth. “You can't have a mid life crisis.”

“I can if I die when I'm thirty-six.” Peter unknots the drawstring of his hoodie.

“Oh boy, this is really gonna be a whole thing, huh?”

Peter just groans indifferently.

“Got you a Happy Meal, Spider-Boy, but it looks like you're too depressed to eat it.”

“I'm not depressed.” Peter says. “Everything just sucks, and I'm tired.”

“Depression.”

“High school.”

Tony pauses for a moment. “Fair enough.” He shakes the box above Peter’s head. “C’mon, I promise I got you french fries instead of apple slices.”

Peter takes the box and sits it on his chest, groaning dramatically at having to move at all.

“So sad. Washed up at eighteen. Spideys past his prime.”

Peter rolls his eyes, lazily opening the golden arch. “Right? I should just retire now.”

Tony ruffles his hair. “That's right, grandpa. Superhero-ing’s a young man's game.“

“If I'm a grandpa, what does that make you?”

“In a position to kick your skinny little ass.” Tony says, stealing a chicken nugget.

“Hey!” Peter yells indignantly. “Shouldn't you be watching your cholesterol, or something? I thought you had heart problems.”

“You're not the only one having a midlife crisis, kiddo.” Tony sits at the large round table, experimentally stretching his iron arm. It gives Peter shivers every time he sees. Not the prosthetic itself, but lasting image of ash and radiation crawling across Tony's body after the snap. 

Peter remembers dying; the agonizingly slow sensation of his bones and organs crumbling to dust. But he thinks seeing Tony like that might have just been worse.

“Where did you even get McDonalds, it's like 2 AM?” 

Tony doesn't bother looking up from whatever tech he's tinkering with. “Oh so you do know what time it is? Clearly didn't stop you breaking into my house.”

Peter winces. “Sorry.” 

“Hey, c'mon, you can't just switch tactics on me, kid. If I'm gonna be an asshole, you have to be an asshole too, that's how it works.” 

Peter laughs softly, fiddling with the soggy box. “Hey, look, I got an Iron Man.” He says, holding the plastic wrapped figure in the air. 

“Damn. Should be paying me royalties for that thing.” Tony says offhandedly.

“No offense, Mr. Stark, but I think you're set.”

Tony laughs distractedly, letting the room fall into silence again.

“Never explained why you dropped by, anyway.” He says casually.

Peter stiffens a bit. “Yeah, um… y'know just… trouble sleeping, I guess.”

“You ‘guess’, huh?” Tony says, worry seeping through the falsely cavalier tone.

“Yeah… When’d you become such a dad?” Peter says it without thinking, but the words taste ashy as soon as they leave his mouth. 

Tony says nothing for a moment, then clears the emotion from his throat. “You were gone for a while, kiddo.”

Peter doesn't breathe. “Yeah, I know.”

“May know you're here?” Tony asks.

“I left a note. She knows I come out here sometimes.”

“Alright.” Tony nods. “Just making sure she won't bring the hammer of the gods down on me. If anyone besides Cap could wield mjolnir, its her.”

Peter laughs tightly.

“You know I don't mind you over here kid, I just--”

“I know, Mr. Stark.” Peter says. “Thanks.”

Peter closes his eyes and listens to the quiet sounds of Tony's little workshop. It's funny to think of him out here now, living a simple little life out where the cameras aren't on him every second. He doesn't have to be Tony Stark all the time. Now he can just be Morgan's dad.

“I don't really remember it.” Peter says meekly. He doesn't have to specify what ‘it’ is. The tightness in Tony's voice is telling.

“Yeah, well… good.” He says. “Nothing worth remembering.”

“But I keep… dreaming about it, I think.” Peter says slowly. 

“Nightmares?” 

“No. No it’s not— it’s just… quiet.” Peter sips at the milkshake, swallowing the blatant lie. He remembers disappearing. Dying felt like passing out, but the feeling of his legs disintegrating from underneath him, while he clung to Tony for dear life— that he remembers with excruciating clarity.

“Good. That’s… that’s good.” Peter can hear Tony consciously steady his breathing. It’s the reason he doesn’t tell him the truth.

“Where’s Mongoose?”

“Sleeping, like you should be. How'd you even get ‘Mongoose’ out of ‘Morgan’, anyway?”

Peter shrugs. “We were playing Iron Man, she thought it was funny.”

“Playing Iron Man, huh?” Tony asks through a smile. 

“Yeah, she could give you a run for your money.”

Peter hears the muffled taps of little sock feet on the stairs above.

“Speak of the devil.” Tony rises to his feet, rolling the shoulder his prosthetic is attached to. It creaks and ka-thunk's, sounding just vaguely like the suit it used to be. “Morgana, Prince of Darkness?”

Peter shoots Tony a look.

“Nah, nah, I wrote that on her birth certificate, Morgan’s just a nickname.”

Peter rolls his eyes.

Tony lifts Morgan up into his arms. “Hey, Morgs, we're gonna play hop on Pete, you ready?”

“Yeah!” Morgan squeals.

“Get ready for incoming bony toddler knees.” Tony says, whistling like a cartoon bomb’s being dropped. 

Peter makes an exaggerated ‘oof’, as Morgan lands squarely on his chest, her little hands curling in his shirt.

“I got you!” She says.

“You got me, Mongoose.” Peter laughs. “What're you doing down here?”

“Smelled cheeseburgers.” She giggles. 

“She's like a bloodhound, don't know where she gets it from.” Tony says, mouth full.

“Yeah, no clue.” Peter deadpans, reaching down into the Happy Meal box, left discarded on the floor. “I saved you some french fries.”

Morgan gasps, bouncing up and down on Peter's chest. “Thank you!” She whispers.

“Hey, hey! You don't feed the Gremlins after midnight, Parker, that's basics.”

“What's Gremlins?” Morgan asks, her lisp peeking through. 

“Really old movie.” Peter says. 

“Watch it, Bug Boy.” Tony lifts Morgan back into his arms. “And you, little miss, you should be dreaming about all the juice pops and french fries you won’t get to eat.”

Morgan makes a face. Its striking how much she looks like Tony sometimes. All those little facial expressions, and head tilts, and snark-- it makes Peter feel physically ill how close she was to growing up without her dad.

“Mommy said you should be asleep too.” Morgan says defiantly. Some of her letters get swallowed up in her mouth and turned to ‘w's. It makes it hard not to crack a smile at anything she says-- a problem Tony is currently struggling with.

“Yeah, well I don't think Mommy knows that Spider-Man came to visit.”

“Can Petey stay and play?” 

“Nope, Petey's got a bedtime too. You're both outlaws right now.”

Morgan gasps. 

“That's right.” It takes Tony less than a minute to relent. “If I let Spider-Criminal give you one french fry, will you promise to go to bed?”

Morgan nods, humming enthusiastically.

“Alright, fork it over.” Peter hands Tony a french fry. “This is bribery. You're gonna make a great supervillain someday.” He says to Morgan, who scrunches up her face like a bunny when she smiles, and pops the french fry in her mouth. 

Tony carries Morgan up the creaky wooden stairs. Peter can hear the quiet whispers of half a conversation, interspersed with Morgan's little munchkin voice. 

“Daddy's gotta talk to Spidey for a minute, can you wait up here?”

“Mmhm!”

“Not gonna get into any trouble?”

“No.”

“No more crime sprees?” 

She giggles. “No, Daddy.”

Peter sits up as he hears Tony descend the stairs once more. 

“Alright, underoos.”

“Guess I'll head out.” Peter says with a smile, and a glance at the top of the stairs where Morgan waits.

“You can sleep here if you want.” Tony suggests, avoiding eye contact by tossing something haphazardly onto the table. “Queens is more than a couple swings away.”

“Nah, that's alright, I don't wanna worry May.”

“Alright, well, uh…” Tony waves a hand toward the door. “Skedaddle then, night owl.”

Peter smiles, starting towards the door, and feeling the floorboards creak under his feet.

“Hey, um… Tony?” Peter lingers in the threshold.

“Yeah?”

He tosses the Iron Man figure still in the greasy Happy Meal package. “Give it to Morgan tomorrow?” 

“You got it, kid.”

Peter swings home, and feels alright.

It's the first night that he doesn't dream of Titan.

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy fellas long time no see.
> 
> so uh endgame fucked me up. idk where I'm at w leave our troubles in the sand, I might go back to it, I might not, either way I'll be writing a whole lotta endgame aus. I already have 2~3 fics in the works rn, so hopefully I'll be able to post them soon!
> 
> (I'm kinda nervous abt this one, but I rlly rlly wanted to post it so)
> 
> every comment makes me write more!!! thanks for reading!
> 
> ~Cereal


End file.
